Page 117 of Die for You
Finn moves like a shadowy wraith, cutting me off as I march for the mansion. His hand flat on my chest stops me. “Careful.”
His eyes tell me what his mouth doesn’t. I fucked this up for us last time. I’m the reason we got tossed in jail for a night. The reason Aurora was left vulnerable without us.
Hotheaded, impulsive, reckless. My methods got us into this mess.
“Fine. But if they won’t let us in, you’ll distract them while I break a fucking window.”
Knox claps me on the shoulder and leads the way up to the door. “Good compromise.”
Finn brings up the rear, prepared for an ambush attack. Jeremiah knows wherever he takes her, we’ll come looking. He’s got the upper hand.
Knox raps on the front door. Once, twice, three times. He lifts his fist to knock a fourth time when I’m about to shout loud enough to rattle the windows, but the door finally squeaks open.
A woman with glasses perched on her head of immaculate curls frowns at us. Barb. Her brows are frozen by Botox, but her eyes narrow and lips dip enough to tell me she’s not thrilled to see us. “Can I help you?”
“Where is Jeremiah?” I bark. Knox nudges me, and I force the fakest fucking smile on my face. By the looks of Barb, she’s not buying it. “We need to talk to him.”
“You need to stay away from my son. Contact my lawyer.” She’s about to shut the door in our face when Finn’s palm slams against it.
Her eyes widen. Finn, the steady shadow, often fades into the background. So every move he makes scares the shit out of anyone who’s not expecting it. Even makes me jump once in a while.
“Ma’am, we think he took Aurora. We can’t find her.”
Something about Knox’s tone sets her a bit more at ease. She keeps her gaze trained on him, the only one she’s comfortable enough to look at. “I haven’t seen her. And Jeremiah isn’t home. He’s at work. He didn’t even take a day off after the hell you three put him through.”
“What about the hell he put Aurora through?” I growl. “She was your foster daughter. Don’t you at least give a shit about her?”
Her lips purse, and she stays silent so long, I have my answer. “I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her. But I can assure you, my son has done nothing to Aurora.”
“Could we just have a look around? We just want to make sure he didn’t bring her here.” Knox smiles, but there’s no confidence behind it. He knows as well as I do that there’s no way in hell this woman is going to let us into her house.
She’d rather do anything it takes to protect her son, even if he’s a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve it. Even if she’s putting an innocent woman at risk.
Barb huffs like a bull ready to charge. “My son didn’tkidnap?—”
“Either you can let us search your house, or the police will. Your choice.”
Reputation might be the only thing that matters to Barb more than her son. What would their neighbors, friends, community think if they found the police raided their home looking for a girl their son kidnapped?
She narrows her eyes at me. In her head, she’s coming up with a thousand different ways to tell me to fuck off.
But she stands aside and opens the door wider. “Be quick. And if I find a single item out of place?—”
“We’re not here to steal your shit.” I shove through the open doorway. “We couldn’t care less about your wine collection, Barb.”
She calls more objections at our backs, but the three of us ignore her as we march through the pristine home. Hardly looks like anybody lives here. No husband home. No side piece either. Just reality TV, a wine glass on a coaster, and a bottle of Bordeaux.
I search the first floor, Knox takes second, and Finn third. I yank open every door I find, behind every shower curtain, peer under every bed. In any part of this giant house that they could have her hidden.
A door in the hallway leads down to a cellar. My pulse hammers in my neck. Quiet, damp, dark. Perfect place to keep our angel.
Barb follows behind Finn, shouting orders for him to watch his step and not leave so many fingerprints and her housekeeper just cleaned that room.
The cellar stairs creak with every step, burnt-out lightbulb keeping me in the dark. I fumble with my phone and find the flashlight, illuminating the final steps in front of me and the empty floor.
Once I hit the landing, I take in my surroundings. A wine cellar. Racks filled with bottle after bottle. In the corner, some storage space for cigars.
That’s it. No Aurora.
